


Doggin' Trouble

by htbthomas



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Dogs, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Forever Ficathon, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is he now fifteen, palms sweating below his white gloves as he works up the courage to ask a young lady for a dance? No, he’s 236, and he’s taking Jo to a police banquet as her plus one. There is nothing romantic about it, just two colleagues sharing—how did she put it?—a meal on the department’s dime. </p><p>It’s not a date.</p><p>Then why does it feel like one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doggin' Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theKyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theKyra/gifts).



> Thanks to my beta!

Henry walks the few steps to Jo’s door, tugging on his coat sleeves to straighten them after the ride in the taxi. There’s something off about his scarf as well, the knot not centered and creeping upward to escape the collar of his overcoat. He shifts it, and suddenly the shoulders of his jacket are askew… What on earth is wrong?

He stops, catching himself at the bottom step. He knows what this is: nervousness. 

He chuckles at himself. Is he now fifteen, palms sweating below his white gloves as he works up the courage to ask a young lady for a dance? No, he’s 236, and he’s taking Jo to a police banquet as her plus one. There is nothing romantic about it, just two colleagues sharing—how did she put it?—a meal on the department’s dime. 

It’s not a date.

Then why does it feel like one? 

Maybe it’s the way Jo asked, eyes not completely meeting his, as if she were hiding deeper feelings with casual words. Maybe it’s the way she blushed, though slight, when he told her he’d be honored to accompany her. Or when she’d said she was looking forward to seeing him in a tuxedo in an appraising sort of way that turned embarrassed when he noticed.

His humor dissipates. He’s not sure what this is, but he should face it with dignity. Swallowing, he climbs the steps and knocks on the door.

A volley of barks answers him.

He takes a step back in surprise. Does Jo have a… dog?

If she does, it’s a rather new development—the last time he’d been over she’d been quite pet-free. Strange that she hadn’t mentioned it, even in passing. Their friendship is well-into the “I have a new dog” sharing phase.

The door opens before he can knock again, Jo poking her head out to say, “Sorry, I’m almost ready—” Barking interrupts her apology and she turns her head to scold, “Hush! He’s a friend!” With an embarrassed smile, she tells Henry, “Come on in, she won’t bite. I think.”

Henry slips in and closes the door behind him. He’s face to face with a eight-pound mop of light brown fur. The creature barks again, tongue lolling out in happiness instead of fear. 

“See? She likes you.” Jo squats down to muss the fur atop the Yorkshire Terrier’s head. “Don’t you, Scarlett?” He hadn’t noticed immediately due to the unexpected presence of the dog, but Jo’s wearing a long, backless, maroon gown, the fabric shimmering in the light. She’s gorgeous. Jo doesn’t seem to care that she’s getting dog hair on the skirt.

“Nice to meet you, Scarlett,” he says to the dog with a formal bow. It feels appropriate when one is wearing a jacket with tails. “Is this your—?”

“Oh, no,” Jo says, straightening and brushing off her skirt. “This is the neighbor’s dog. She stopped by an hour ago, all in a tizzy about how she had a sudden flight to catch and she didn’t have anyone to watch her dog, and that she was ‘no trouble at all, I swear, I’ll get you a souvenir!’”

“And you were too nice to say no.” It’s very Jo.

“I hardly had a chance, she was shoving a cage and a wad of bills at me and leaving before I could do anything else.” She smiles down at the dog, who is gazing back with tail-wagging admiration; agreeing was surely not an issue. 

Scarlett is rather cute, he must admit. “I have never had a dog,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Never? Not in two hundred years?”

He shakes his head. “Never. Though if Abraham had had his way, we would have been swimming in puppies throughout his childhood.”

“That sounds like him.” She glances at the clock, then. “Oh, I’d better finish up. I just need to put on jewelry and grab my bag, then put Scarlett in her pen, and we can go.”

Henry looks down at the little Yorkie, who is following at Jo’s heels. “I can take care of that. Where is the pen?”

“Really? Thank you! It’s in the kitchen.” She bends down to scoop Scarlett up, and places her in Henry’s arms. “I’ll be done in a second, I promise.” She waggles her finger at them for a second. “Now don’t get into any trouble.” He’s not sure if she’s talking to him or Scarlett. Then she’s gone.

Scarlett wiggles around in his arms to face him, and he’s glad that he hadn’t removed his overcoat yet. “Shall we go to the kitchen, little miss?”

She yips at him happily. Either she likes the pen, or she has no understanding of what’s about to transpire. He carries her into the kitchen, toward a cage with a blanket, food and water bowls and a few dog toys strewn about. He gently lowers her toward the opening, all while she yaps happily. “There you go, Miss Scarlett. Into your—”

At the last moment, she struggles and leaps out of his arms. But not into the cage. Of course, not into the cage. She runs through his legs and back out into the living room.

Henry’s head drops in frustration. At least they’re still early—they’ll make it to the banquet on time, even if they’re the last from the precinct to arrive. He rises and walks after her. “Scarlett? Scarlett! Come back here, you little scamp.” 

He can hear the skitter of little claws on hardwood, but not from where. The sound seems to echo around the apartment, confusing his sense of direction. Then there’s scratching, like she’s trying to get into a partially closed door. But which one?

Jo pops her head out from the bathroom. “What’s wrong? Did you lose her?” There’s more than a little bit of teasing in her tone.

But the teasing doesn’t register, he’s too distracted by her lovely updo. “It seems she’s not fond of her pen.”

Jo shrugs. “What dog is?” She pops back out of sight. Sadly.

Henry gives himself a mental shake. He’ll have all evening to enjoy gazing at her. If he can just catch this dog… 

He tiptoes across the floor, looking into each room carefully for any sign of a little brown mop. She must like to play hide-and-seek as well as chase. “Come out, come out wherever you are!” he sings in a low voice. In the study, he hears a tiny scrape of movement and he comes around the desk to find Scarlett tucked up underneath the chair. She looks up at him, panting happily, but the moment he reaches down to get her, she runs under the desk and out of the room.

Again, he tries to follow the sound, this time to the second bathroom. He peers around the door, expecting to find her behind it, but nothing. Where else could she be? There’s a bathtub with a shower curtain, a laundry hamper, a cabinet under the sink—could she have gotten in any of those? She’s not in the hamper, not in the cabinet, the bathtub is empty. The scratching sound starts up again, away from the bathroom. He turns, confounded, and sees himself in the mirror. His scarf is good and askew now, dog hair decorating it and the lapels of his overcoat. With a sigh, he brushes the hair off into the sink, and runs water to wash it away.

When he turns off the water, he listens again. He doesn’t hear the scratching, or scuffling paws, but he does hear traffic noise from the street. Wait…

When he finds the source of the noise, he stiffens in panic. In the guest bedroom, there’s a window cracked open just a few inches, to let in some air. Scarlett is small, but surely she couldn’t fit through such a small opening? He examines the sill and sighs. Dog hair. He opens the window farther, to look out onto the street. There’s no sign of the Yorkshire Terrier, but there’s a set of paw prints leading out of the garden below the window. “Jo?” he calls, trying to keep calm while trying to see down the street as far as he can in both directions.

“What is it?” He hears the click of her heels as she walks in behind him.

He turns to answer—and his mouth drops open. She’s added makeup, just a hint of eyeshadow and a touch of lipstick, a delicate necklace setting off her long neck and exposed back, the dark color of the dress and her hair making a striking contrast with the expanse of skin. He forgets completely what he had been about to say.

Jo shakes her head, a smirk curling one side of her mouth. It doesn’t detract from her beauty one bit. “Close your mouth, Henry. We are not a codfish.” 

He frowns at her odd choice of words and accent. “What?”

She chuckles. “Really, Henry? _Mary Poppins_? You can’t tell me you didn’t at least take Abe to see it when it came out.”

“Abigail may have…” Why is she making movie references? But no matter, it’s enough to break the spell. He turns and points at the opened window. “We seem to have an escapee.”

Her good humor disappears in an instant. “Oh, crap.”

* * *

There’s no time to waste, Jo doesn’t bother to change. She only trades her heels for a pair of running shoes slipped over her stockings, and throws a light jacket on as she grabs Scarlett’s leash. Henry’s attire will suffice for a dog hunt—he’s walked all over New York City in similar suits for years. They walk in the direction the tracks first lead, Jo trying to reach her neighbor on her cell phone. “It’s going straight to voicemail,” she says. “Plane must be in the air.” She starts to clench and unclench her fists in nervousness, picking up speed as they walk. 

“We’ll find her,” Henry assures Jo. “Let’s just think this through. If she wasn’t at her home, then perhaps she’s gone to one of her other favorite places. A dog park, perhaps?”

Jo slows, and breathes deeply as if trying to calm herself. “Yes, there’s a dog park over on Riverside Drive. Maybe she’s there.” He knows the place; it’s only a block or two away. Then she places a hand on his arm, stroking downward. It’s a friendly gesture—warm, maybe even affectionate. “Thanks, Henry.”

He catches her eye to see if he can read her mood. “For what?”

“This is not what I planned when I asked you to be my plus one,” she tells him ruefully. 

“You planned something?” he asks.

It’s not as nonchalant as he’d hoped. She tilts her head at him. “Of course I did.” Then she slides her hand down into his palm. “It wouldn’t be much of a date without plans.”

He hopes that she can’t see his heart suddenly beating out of his chest. So it _is_ a date.

“Don’t look so shocked,” she tells him, her voice as warm as her palm. “Do you think I’d dress like this for mere coworkers?”

He tries for smooth. “I’ve learned that I can never take anything you do for granted.” That wasn’t too bad, the lump in his throat hadn’t distorted any of his tone. He stops walking and takes a step back, letting go of her hand. He unbuttons his overcoat, one slow button at a time, and removes his scarf as well. “This has been at the back of my closet for far too long.” He takes the coat from his shoulders, draping it over an arm, and turns slowly for her.

She lets out a low whistle of appreciation, her eyes sparkling the way Abigail’s used to do. Yet it’s all Jo. “We need to find more occasions for this.” She steps forward, stroking the smooth lapels.

She’s so close now that all thought of the missing dog has fled from his mind. Instead his thoughts and gaze are drawn to her lips and what it would be like to taste them…

“Go ahead,” she whispers. He must hesitate a moment too long, because she closes the distance first, her lips parting his.

He doesn’t know long he’s been wanting this, or when he first starting wanting it—it has been growing since before they talked about Paris and only building after she learned the truth about his condition. He’s been afraid to take it further, because he’s always been certain of one thing: no one should have to deal with the great confusing mess of his life without choosing to do so. 

Her hands slip around his waist as she kisses him, drifting down to his hips to pull him closer. Oh, yes, she is choosing it. 

And so he gives in all the way, wrapping his arms around her to get her as close as possible. If only there weren’t the dog to worry about.

The dog. 

He breaks the kiss reluctantly, just moving apart enough to murmur, “How I hate to say it, but…”

She nods, her forehead moving against his. “Scarlett is still missing.”

He threads his fingers through hers. “Come on. We’ll find her, and then we can get to the banquet.”

They quickly cover the rest of the distance to the dog park, dashing hand-in-hand across the busy street that borders it. This time of the evening, there aren’t many people there, so when Henry sees a flash of brown run between two trees, they head that way.

“Scarlett!” Jo calls. “Come here, girl!”

Scarlett stops, and gives Jo two short barks. But she doesn’t come closer.

“I think she’s afraid of me,” Henry whispers, backing up. “You’d better go after her alone.”

Jo nods. Then she pulls out a dog treat from her jacket pocket and holds it out, walking toward Scarlett with slow, careful steps. “I’ve got something for you, girl. Want a treat?”

Scarlett barks again, this time adding a wagging tail.

“Yes, you do, don’t you?” Jo squats in the grass, paying no mind to the dirt getting on the hem of her gown. “You have to come and get it!”

Scarlett whines and drops to the ground, her head on her paws. Poor little thing. It must be hard to be left alone with strangers, even ones bearing treats.

Jo takes the chance to come closer, still holding the treat before her as an enticement. Thankfully, Scarlett stays in place, eyes following the treat with interest, even as she whines. When Jo is only a few feet away, she tosses the treat to Scarlett. Scarlett snatches it up immediately, not noticing, or perhaps not caring, that Jo is about to pick her up.

Jo swoops in, leash at the ready—

—and Scarlett shoots forward, dodging Jo’s grasping arms—

—and into traffic.

“Scarlett!” Henry shouts in panic, and his legs are moving before he knows it. He sees the dog run between cars, and then freeze in place with a yelp on the edge of a middle lane, realizing her danger but trapped between the whizzing vehicles. He may never have had a dog, but he doesn’t even second guess himself.

He dashes toward her, hoping his lifelong pendulum of both avoiding death and finding it too soon will swing in his favor. He somehow has the presence of mind to shrug off his overcoat as he runs. Behind him he hears Jo shout his name and Scarlett’s but he doesn’t turn. She knows what will happen if he dies, now, even if she’ll never be used to it. He has to believe that she’ll understand. It’s that or this is all over.

When Scarlett sees him, her gaze locks with his. She doesn’t run from him this time, though her body trembles and her fur whips about in the breeze of cars passing. “Stop!” he calls to an oncoming car, changing lanes without a signal and on a direct path for the dog. The driver doesn’t seem him, eyes undoubtedly focused on one of those damnable smartphones.

He leaps forward, shielding the dog with his body as he hears someone scream. The car’s brakes squeal, but it’s too late. The car hits him with sickening impact, and he feels his spine shatter. He falls to the pavement with a thump. At least with a spinal injury his death might be quick, maybe he’ll disappear and be gone before anyone really sees what happened.

The last thing he’s cognizant of before the whirl of images overtakes him is Jo crouching beside him and the dog’s warm, wet tongue licking his face.

* * *

Henry breaks the water with a gasp. He bobs for a moment, reeling with the shock he always feels upon reawakening. The water is cold as always, though, so he can’t stay here long. But he’s reeling from more than the energy of a new life and the freezing water. There was a new image in the series this time, of Jo and their sidewalk kiss. 

Will she remember where to come? Will she berate him for his recklessness? Will she even be there at all? With a sigh, he swims toward the shore.

He waits for as long as he can beside the shoreline, treading water gently and praying he can last until she arrives. If not, hypothermia may cause him to repeat the whole process over again, and that’s a once-is-more-than-enough kind of experience.

“Henry?” he hears a few minutes later. “Henry?” There’s a bark as well. “I have your coat…”

Her voice is worried, maybe a little peeved, but not angry. It’s exactly what he needed to hear. “Over here,” he calls. “And thank god.”

As she holds out her hand to help him out of the water, she says gently, “What did I say about staying out of trouble?” Scarlett bounces up and down at the end of her leash at seeing him, yipping with excitement.

He nods, shivering. “I know, I know.”

As she helps him into his coat, he can see a taxi waiting in the distance, He sags with relief at the sight. She puts an arm around him and starts to lead him toward it, Scarlett nearly tripping them as she tries to zigzag between their legs.

He reaches down to pick her up, and she alternates between licking him and panting happily. “I don’t think she’ll run from me anymore. We can get her into her pen and head to the banquet as soon as I’m changed. I think I have another suit that will do. Sadly, it’s not a tuxedo.” He’ll miss it, especially the years of memories it was imbued with, tonight included.

She holds the door of the taxi open for him. “Never mind the banquet, Henry.” 

“What? Why?” he asks, when she slides in next to him. His heart sinks. Did he ruin their date? “There’s still time.”

In answer, she leans over to kiss him, unhurried and full of feeling. She pulls away, grinning slightly. “We have some dogsitting to do.”


End file.
